Incoherent Ramblings

Face value.

No more Les Amis but only laksa mee

No more Creme de la Mer costing over 300 bucks a jar but now Cetaphil

No more French food at Saint Pierre but nasi lemak near Clifford Pier

No more nubile ballerinas in my lap dancing but only Fashion TV to titillate

No more La Perla only Victoria’s Secret

No more Tetsuya’s, only Ya Kun toast with butter and kaya

No more Broadway shows but only crap from MediaCorp yeah?

No more latte at Starbucks but teh si at kopi tiam

No more dreams of São Paulo but bus trips to Kuala Lumpur

No more cider in private cellars

No more sojourns to Moscow or Rio de Janeiro

But free reads of guidebooks at Borders

While others just can’t wait to fly off to see the world, I go too, but virtually

When others seems to rejoice gleefully over exotic trips they’re taking

Is the message “I can’t wait to be away from you finally”?

I am gobsmacked, but flummoxed?


Salt, meet Wound – come on, shake hands, go forth

What else is new

The panoply of normalcy

Subject to all kinds of representation and mis-interpreting

Sorry, the hangup’s mine, nothing to do with you

But – and – if people are happy to risk their lives flying in rust buckets, it’s their choice, really

Who am I to interfere with their destiny?

Who am I to interfere with their life journeys?

A total Gestalt switch

No more thousand-dollar celebrity dining companions but “home-grown talents”

Anyway, at this rate, I’ll soon become an ostrich

No, I’m not in the deepest depths of my darkest night – hey, I bought that monk’s Ferrari – but perhaps I’m merely being a Scrooge, preparing for The Great Escape?

Think Steve McQueen, mean machine

When chains break and gates open and my wings open up and unfold and they flap mightily – oh, feel the breeze –  I soar

Like an eagle in the sky

Like a majestic and regal eagle in the sky

I will fly alone

Leaving the ducks behind

The eagle – r?ra avis – flies alone, the ducks, they huddle in a puddle of muddle

Me – mighty eagle

Freedom from perpetual torment

Out of bondage

Paradise regained à la Milton, John, that is

Time for new conversations

Chaque chose a une fin

A whiff, a glance, a passing moment, honey, was it you?

A pang of pain, a stab of longing

Oh how I wish it wasn’t just me reminiscing

How I wish it was really you

But no, reality hits and I know I was merely dreaming

I’ve searched high and low

But could never find that which truly satisfies

I pray for my depression to go, for a miracle to come

But nothing happens

Sins from a hundred pillows sorrow wrought

Sorry, daydreams are my only freedom

My flights of fancy

And this is a daydream, a ventilation, a mental sigh

My catharsis

My fantasies

Allow me this at least, grant me this catharsis

Let me catharsize

That, or I will asphyxiate

And meet with an early demise


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